


There's No Sense in Miracles

by Rosie_Rues



Series: The Rising Storm [35]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diabetes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-11
Updated: 2007-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post war, a shocking headline</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Sense in Miracles

**Author's Note:**

> I spent part of my afternoon today just standing in the street and staring at [a certain headline](http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/health/article1637528.ece). In the end, the easiest way to process it was to wonder how the equivalent news would hit Remus.  
> 

  
Remus rarely bothered to read the papers these days. With the war over, they were all Quidditch and celebrity gossip. The only reason he picked _The Prophet_ up was because someone had left it scrunched on the only free chair in the staffroom. As it was also covered in mud, he decided it was Pomona's fault this time, rather than Harry's. He would never understand how either of them got through a week without losing most of their marking.

As his tea was still cooling and he had fifteen minutes of his break left, he decided to glance over the headlines. Without sitting down, he turned it over, straightening the pages.

The headline felt like a punch in the gut.

He couldn't even read on. Instead he froze, clinging to the paper.

“Lupin,” an all too familiar voice sneered, “do you intend to occupy that chair?”

Normally he would have made some provocatively mild comment just to see Severus twitch. This time he just moved out of the way, finally starting to read the article.

He was still staring at it when the bell rang. He noticed the others trail out to their classrooms, but couldn't bring himself to move. He felt too far away from them.

“Why Minerva felt the need to hire every homeless imbecile in the Wizarding world I shall never understand,” Severus muttered, sweeping past him. “Do you not have a class to teach?”

“Oh,” Remus murmured. “Yes. Right.” He folded the newspaper up and followed Severus out, clinging to it as he tried to remember what he was meant to be doing.

He had to clear his head to teach. He'd learnt that lesson during his first stint at Hogwarts – the frail illusion of authority required his full attention.

As soon as the bell went for lunch, however, he pulled the paper out again, leaning on his desk to comb through it for further details. He would have to owl Kingsley or Hestia and ask them to look up copies of the American wizarding papers in case they had more details. The study had taken place in Brazil – perhaps it was worth getting the Brazilian paper too and looking up a translation spell.

“Are you suffering from distemper, Lupin?”

He made himself look up from the paper and smiled vaguely at Severus. “Mm.”

Severus looked rather taken aback. Then his eyes narrowed. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Remus turned the paper round to show him the headline. _Lycanthropes Cured by Blood-Magic Treatment_

“I see,” Severus said.

“It's not really a cure,” Remus said, the words tumbling out of him now. “Not for people like me, I mean. The test subjects were all newly bitten and they cast the spell before their first transformation. They didn't change, though. They took them out into the moonlight and they didn't change.”

Severus pulled the door shut behind him. “You're babbling.”

“I shouldn't,” Remus said. “I know I shouldn't. It was only a little study and it's not really a cure. I'm not really hoping for anything.”

“I would have expected you to be celebrating.”

It wasn't really an invitation to talk, but it wasn't a slap in the face either so it would have to do. “I've _never_ expected a cure. My parents-” He throat seized up.

Severus looked appalled. He didn't leave.

“My mum,” Remus said, hugging the paper close again. “She worked with werewolves even before- before. Helped set up the whole Werewolf office and the shelter for registration deal. She would have given anything...”

He had to turn his back on Severus. He hadn't thought of his mum in years. He'd been thirteen when she finally gave up and walked off Beachy Head. Other tragedies had put fresher scars in him, piece by piece, and he had thought that one long-healed.

“Sit down,” Severus said irritably and swished past him to flick a fingernail against the bell over the fireplace.

Remus pulled out and chair and sank into it, staring at Severus. The cold dreaminess was beginning to fade and he was intrigued. He was usually lucky to get a snarl when they passed in the corridor, and he had been wishing more and more that Minerva's innate sense of fair play hadn't forced her to offer the man his job back when his name was cleared.

A house elf popped out of the air. “Yes, sir, professor? How can Pimply be helping you, sir?”

“Get him some lunch,” Snape snapped.

The house elf twitched, twisting its hands together. “Sir, Pimply is very, very sad to tell you that she must be obeying Hermione Granger's rules and asking for wages for anything which is not in Pimply's contract, may it be burnt to cinders, the nasty, nasty thing.”

“Fine,” Severus snarled. “Just get on with it.”

The house elf disappeared again, and Remus said, “Why are you being nice to me?”

Severus looked horrifed. “Don't flatter yourself, Lupin. I'm merely aware that if you finally have that breakdown you've been courting for years, I shall be required to cover all your lessons.”

“Ah,” Remus murmured. He was beginning to feel himself again. “Charity, the Slytherin way.”

He had to be charming those robes to create such an icy breeze every time he went past. This time he plucked the paper out of Remus' hands before he sat down to study it.

“I was reading that,” Remus said, trying to be dignified.

“If you have yet to finish it, you are far too illiterate for the job you hold.”

“Why are you interested, anyway?” Remus grumbled. He was beginning to feel he'd made a slight fool of himself. If it had been in front of someone who would have welcomed the news purely for his sake, that might have been different, but Severus would find some way to turn it into a weapon.

“I have a financial interest,” Severus said stiffly from behind the cover of the paper.

“A _what?_ ” Remus asked.

Severus lowered the paper enough to glower at him. “I supplement my income quite considerably by brewing the Wolfsbane potion.”

“As well as teaching?” Remus exclaimed. “When do you do your marking? Your lesson planning?”

“Unlike some people's,” Severus remarked, disappearing behind the paper again, “my lesson plans have been carefully refined over time.”

Remus crossed his arms. “You mean you just teach the same lessons year after year, regardless of the students' needs.”

Severus snorted.

“Teaching,” Remus said mildly, “is _supposed_ to be about the students' needs.”

“Teaching,” Severus growled, “is an art of compromise. I am trying to read this.”

“It's my classroom,” Remus said. He was definitely feeling himself again.

That got Severus surging to his feet. “Then God forbid I sully it any further. Good afternoon, Lupin.”

He stalked out with his paper under his arm. Remus stared after him, not sure whether to be amused or offended. He thought they were more or less even, though. He'd made a fool of himself in front of Severus, but he'd managed to get in the first strike before Severus could turn it round on him.

It wasn't until the house elf reappeared with a meticulously assembled roast beef sandwich that he began to wonder if he mightn't have been a little in the wrong.

*

That evening, when Harry mentioned the cure, he was able to smile easily and explain he wasn't going to get his hopes up. Severus snorted derisively from the far end of the table, but everyone else was so excited that they failed to notice.

Remus took their excitement calmly, but was surprised to find a little whisper of excitement clenching his belly. Perhaps, after all these years, he could risk having a little hope. It might be too late for him, but if this news meant that no other child would have to face the agony and heartbreak of a cage, it was the best news since the fall of Voldemort.

Smiling to himself, he decided to renew his subscription to _The Prophet_.


End file.
